Dallas’ p.o.v.
I growl a little louder this time. I am done with being a Human pincushion.
“Aunt Eliza, is this absolutely necessary?” I ask her as I look in the mirror to see Tyana stifling a smile.
“You already know the answer to that question, Dallas. You need to follow protocol and that means wearing a dress.” Aunt Eliza responds.
I know that she is right, but wearing a dress all day sucks. I've developed my own style over the past five years, and I only wear a dress when I have no other choice- and even then, it's after a lot of arguing.
“Mommy. Mommy. Look.” I hear Rani, my almost five year old Daughter, say as she walks into the room.
In the reflection of the mirror, I watch as she walks towards me in her bright pink ball gown. Behind her is Basil, Quinlan's almost five year o
